Thief's Tale: A Journey Though Lordren
by Skalas'en
Summary: A girl ventures through the mysterious and dangerous lands of Lordren, discovering how her identity from long ago intertwines with her current destiny... A destiny she would gladly throw away. Rated M for violence, gore, suggestive themes, nudity, breaking wind and just all around badness. Please leave a review of what you think, it allows the story (and me) to get better.


**Author's Note: **So... Here it is. The first chapter is going to be a bit slow, but it gets better. Trust me. I'm experimenting with story pacing in this tale. Some events will be skimped over, then others will be drawn out. Also, this isn't a completely symmetrical story to Dark Soul's, there will be some differences. All that aside, Dark Souls and all of it's content is property of FromSoftware, and the OC's are my creations.

Let's begin shall we?...

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**Chapter I**

An Unexpected Gift

"Dust." She thought to herself for what seemed to be the millionth time as she sat in her cell. She had no clue how long she'd sat there in that dark corner, days had melded into weeks, weeks to months, months to years. The woman sat there silently, blue hair seemingly striking against the dull grey brick that was her cell. Her _cell _she spat at the ground at disgust, or tried to, as her dried cracked lips made the motion, but no liquid came forth. The woman sighed again, anger subsiding as quickly as it had come, a quiet sadness replaced it. She looked around her cell, gazing at the stonework, until her eyes settled on her hands.

She had taken off her gloves and set them beside her some time ago, feeling the sun's lackluster warmth on her decayed skin. It was something that gave her at least some comfort in this dark and dank cell. But couldn't still quite understand how she could still feel in such a morbid state. She had decided that it was her brand, her curse rather, that allowed her to feel anything at all at this point, whether be it pleasure or pain. Her fingers were bony and orange, along with her hands, feet and any other part of her body. Her body wasn't rotting... Not decomposing... Just dead.

She had slowly starved to death in this cell, desperately crying out to anyone that would hear her for anything that she could eat. She brought her knees tighter to her chest for comfort and shook her head of the memories. She shook her head quickly "No, I'm not thinking of that anymore...". She sighed, looking up into the hole in the ceiling, which was now leaking patched sunlight into the middle of the cell. Her mind slowly churned with activity as she thought of her non-existent captors and who brought her to this place... She trailed in thought. She honestly couldn't remember by whom she was brought with or by, she just knew the reason.

She had been born with the Dark Sign. She couldn't quite figure out what had happened, but in the end it didn't matter. She was branded at birth, imprisoned, and in the most literal sense of the word, dead. She leaned back against the wall looking up, pursing her dried, cracked lips thinking "Well, _undead_" and chuckled a bit. She knew that much, she was something special, her brand had prevented her from dipping into the abyss permanently. Instead, she sat, she waited and sometimes cried without tears. She had even even paced her cell for hours just to hear footsteps.

She silently put her gloves back on and resigned herself to bringing her knees to her chest and watching the dust settle onto the ground again in front of her feet. "Dust." she thought absentmindedly for a few minutes, occasionally hearing small bird fluttering by, or the wind stirring through the prison. She pondered, lifting her head curiously upon hearing several loud thumps and hitting on stone, something that sounded like a scream, and afterward nothing at all. She simply shrugged and watched the floor once again. "Probably just the building falling apart" She smiled at the small realization and laughed to herself, something that came out as hoarse wheezing sound. "By the gods, the prison is _literally_ rotting around me". She laughed for a good time after that and it felt good, she smiled happily at her little joke before settling back on her knees and watching the dust scatter on the ground.

It was but a few minutes later that she realized that a bag had dropped to her feet. She had heard the sound, but didn't bother reacting to it, expecting it to be nothing. She curiously eyed the bag without moving, and saw a blurred shadow covering the sunlight on the ground. She frowned and looked upwards, seeing armor from one of the royal families staring down at her. As soon as she saw him, he left, leaving her to almost believe that it was a trick of her stir-crazy mind. It wasn't however, when she looked at the bag, seeing something reflective. She slowly got up and made her way to the bag, picking it up carefully. "Well, I wonder what's in my little party packa-"

She immediately dropped it from surprise and shaking hands. Cursing silently in her head, she snatched up the bag greedily, reaching inside and pulled out a rusty key. She glanced towards the cell door and back at the key, her hopes skyrocketing, but she stopped them, thinking curtly "It could just be any old key... Right?" She made her way over and stuck the key into the keyhole. "So far so good..." she thought and braced herself for the worst as she slowly turned the key...

The key turned and with a bit of effort, she pushed the door open. She stood flabbergasted, utterly in shock at the mouth of the hallway for but a few seconds that felt like hours. She took a deep breath and stepped outside of her cell, what had been her home for what she thought of as years. Excitement took over as she looked around, her mind a blur as she took in the new scenery, she skipped from one point to the other, looking at rubble, junk, anything that could be touched or moved she was all over.

At one point in the hall, she did a little dance. She knew she looked completely ridiculous in her tattered armor, but she hugged herself and giggled with pure joy. She was free of that cell, "I'm free, I'm FREE!" she exclaimed in her head. Not noticing the encroaching figure that was slowly staggering down the hall toward her. She turned around from her little dance and saw the figure approaching.

She gasped a bit, taking a step backwards. Was it one of the guards? Did he hear her? "Oh gods, please tell me he didn't see my dance..." she groaned inwardly. Then she saw his face... Or rather what was left of it. She almost panicked, then her foot brushed against the doorframe to her cell. She had been backing away from the figure the entire time into her cell. A mixture of emotions went through her body, she was terrified of the figure, upset that it had seen her dance and joyous she had escaped her cell. But then another emotion took over, one of frustration, which led way to anger. She didn't want to go back into her cell, she hated the figure without even knowing who he was. "I'm not going back into that cell!" she exclaimed in her mind.

She rushed toward the figure, tackling it with all of her might, which was far more than she thought it was. Then she remembered her training, she had no clue if it was any use against a zombie, but she really had no other choice. She brought her knee up and smashed the zombie's face, then rolled backwards, stumbling a bit before standing. She watched in horror as the zombie stood up like nothing had happened, it's jaw dangling uselessly against it's throat.

She was just about to run and scream down the hall, before a man's voice from the cell next to her croaked "Here, take this!" She damned near jumped through the stonework ceiling at his voice, but instead saw a curved dagger in his outstretched hand. Wordlessly she nodded her thanks and grabbed onto the hilt of the weapon, instantly feeling out the familiar balance of the knife. As soon as her hand was around that knife handle, she felt safer, more in control of the situation.

She lowered her center of gravity, getting into a ready stance. She watched the zombie trudge toward her, raising his shattered sword to smite her. "There!" she back away slightly, just enough to dodge the swing and closed the distance fast. She flipped the dagger around and plunged it downward into the demonic man's chest. A chill erupted up her arm throughout her whole body as the living dead screamed and fell silent, collapsing onto the floor.

She didn't feel bad about the situation, rather, she felt proud that she had handled it so well. Her father would've been pleased at her abilities she smiled sadly to herself. "Nice dance there young lady" She jumped, completely forgetting the man in his cell letting out a small yelp of surprise. She watched the man carefully, rubbing the back of her head embarrassingly thankful that she couldn't blush. "He saw that did he?" She walked over to the man's cell, seeing a thin silhouette in the darkness. The old man cackled "What's the matter? Undead cat got your tongue?" then waited curiously for a response, but when none came he became slightly annoyed. "You know, usually two people talk for it to be a conversation." The girl made some motions to the old man, some of which he found quite comical.

"Why doesn't she talk?" he mused to himself as she made motion after motion with her hands and body. Curiously, he asked the girl "May I see your mark?". The blue-haired girl stopped making a motion which looked slightly in between a cow mating with a brick wall and gave a curious look. She then shuffled her feet side to side averting his gaze "Why of all things does he want to see _that_?" The elderly man coughed to get her attention "Sorry, I've been quite rude, my name is Sean of Astora. I used to be a librarian until my dark brand was discovered." He gestured to her, what's your name?

The girl frowned in concentration. "What _was_ her name?" She remembered flickers of her old life, her training, her father... Seeing the girl focusing heavily, he thought of something. "Check the plaque next to your cell, you may find something that might jog your memory" Instantly the girl smiled and whirled around to check the plaque, only to find it barely intact and sitting on the ground. She scrubbed her sleeves on the plaque only to dishearteningly find three barely letters "F...e...a" she thought sadly. She picked up the plaque and brought it over to the old man, who kindly accepted it and stared at it. "Well, what does it say hrmmm?" She shrugged, pretending not to care, although she was showing otherwise.

"Well, it's quite obvious that your name is Fea, and my, what a beautiful name it is... Why, I can recall quite a few Feas in the tales of my old library..." At the sound of hearing that name, she perked up. She didn't care if it was her name or not. The old man was showing kindness in naming her, giving her something she didn't have. Hope. The moment was purely satisfying, until it was ruined, by a sudden breaching of wind by the old man. And just like that, moment ruined, she made an attempt of rolling her eyes as the old man cackled in his cell. "He's certainly not very stable is he?" but she smiled, she liked the old man, plus he had saved her... life? She had no clue, but she knew one thing as she gazed up the dimly lit hallway, then gagged and took a swift step backwards as the old man's cackling broke out into hoarse laughter. It smelled _really_ bad...

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All will be explained in due time~

Please, leave a review, let me know what you think of the characters. Also, I'm looking for someone to help with the second-pair-of-eyes scenario. As I would like to have someone read over my work who's well written and has a decent understanding of the Dark Souls universe. Till next time guys.


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